Unexpected Allies
by Lucia Alena Riddle
Summary: [[ AU ]] Dumbledore and Voldemort have come to a compromise which sees the Boy Who Lives living an unexpected, uninvolved lifestyle. The structure of Wizarding Britain has been molded to suit the two autocrats and who pulls Harry back into the fray to fix this mess but Severus Snape. Rated M for sexual content to follow, coarse language and violence.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the HP universe or, really, anything you recognize.

A/N: This story takes place approximately 10 years after Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts. Please forgive any minor inconsistencies which I know will follow regarding things like the existence/state of certain technology and the details of London. I have lived in London for the past three and a half years and have become intimately familiar with it as it is today (i.e. up to early 2013) – I take some artistic license with these details as they do not tend to be too significant to the plot. Also, I do not have a beta for this story because I tend to be pretty strict with my criticism of myself and my work; but if you, dear reader, feel that the story is in need of a beta, please do let me know in a review (well, please review whether or not you think so, actually).

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**Prologue**

It had rained earlier in the day – hardly out of the ordinary in London – and small puddles decorated the streets and sidewalks. A young man stood, slouching, hood up, waiting for the red double-decker to pull up to his stop. He pressed his travelcard to the yellow circle, acknowledged the positive beep with a murmured, "Thank you" to the driver, and then trudged up the stairs to his favourite seat – right at the front of the bus. There weren't many people on the upper level this evening – but the man's sensitive nose noticed that one of the few present stank enough to make up for the absence of more bodies. He stank like he'd bedded three prostitutes and subsequently had them rub their venereal diseases across every bit of exposed skin they could reach. Nose crinkling in disgust, intelligent emerald eyes glanced toward the stinker but couldn't see his face, shrouded as it was in a rumpled, dirty hoodie.

"No wonder Purebloods look down on muggles," he thought, sneering slightly, "when public transport is littered with this calibre of scum. It's enough to make you wonder where all the decent people hide in this mess of a city." Like many Londoners, this young man had a love/hate relationship with the city where one could never be bored, would usually be annoyed, would probably feel aggressive towards every person between point A and point B and yet wouldn't have it any other way.

The bus pulled up to another stop, admitting a squabble of squeaking, quite inebriated students. The messy-haired man's heightened sense of hearing was not necessary to hear the loud squawks, squeals of laughter and appalling language (for such a public setting) amongst the decisive beeps of the Oyster card machine. As the unruly group stomped up the stairs, he turned to openly glare at every hooligan as they appeared. One of the men stared back and seemed about to confront the stranger. A deep growl made his (fractionally more prudent) friends nudge him towards the back of the bus. Emerald eyes seemed to almost dull as the prospect of confrontation fizzled out, turning back around to stare at the cars in front of the bus. The giggling gaggle of scum resumed their racket and he wished his iPod's battery hadn't died. He wished a lot of things hadn't died, to be fair. Shaking his head, he bemusedly considered how more than ten years of being exiled from the magical world had not broken him of remorseful thoughts.

He now had a fairly good job working with the reptiles at the London Zoo (where he had discovered that Parseltongue did not limit him to speaking only to snakes), enjoyed a comfortable flat south of the river and basically just stayed off the radar. Not even that fraud Trelawney could have predicted this outcome for Harry Potter, the blasted Boy Who Lived.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind and using a small bit of mental magic to block the noise coming from the back of the bus, he watched the buildings and street lamps float by. He was mildly surprised to realize that the bus was already North of the river. As the bus pulled away from the Charing Cross Station stop, he suddenly felt a strong magical presence approach until it loomed over him, and he tensed up, unwilling to turn around and confirm just who stood not two feet away. He felt as the person sat down beside him but continued to stubbornly act as though the traffic was far more interesting than he truly thought it was.

"Well, Mr Potter," softly spoke a silky baritone, so familiar in its heavy, heady, dastardly confidence, "I thought finding you would prove more difficult than this."

Turning slowly, Harry found himself playing the part of the proverbial deer, caught in the headlights of Severus Snape's self-satisfied smirk.

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A/N: Very short prologue, I know. I think I make up for it in Chap 1, though, which is already written and soon to be uploaded. Forgive me for my muse's amusement with several severe cases of consonance.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the HP universe or, really, anything you recognize.

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed this fic based purely on that short prologue! I cannot tell you how amazing your support has made me feel! Here is Chapter 1, a bit later than I intended to get it posted (kept getting distracted by little cousins and my imminent move from London in the next few weeks). I am working on Chapter 2 right now – hopefully will get it up soon. Thanks all, once again! Enjoy ;)

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Seemingly unfazed by Harry's (quite impressive) goldfish impression, Snape continued as if they were discussing a potion in the Hogwarts dungeons. "Really, Potter, I know that the Dark Lord stipulated that you have to stay out of the way of the magical community but you don't need to neglect your magic to the point that the smallest charm makes it practically dance around you, begging to be used more."

He looked at Harry expectantly, not needing to verbalize a question to communicate that he expected an answer. Snapping his mouth shut, Harry resumed his pointed observation of the blue Honda creeping through traffic ahead of them. He'd already decided that he'd simply get out at Trafalgar Square and walk to Soho from there – if Snape tried to follow him, he shouldn't have too hard a time losing him in the crowd. He just wanted to get lost in the music of a club and dance away his ever-present memories and emotional self-flagellation. Snape's amusement was clearly fading but the younger man ignored the warning sensation working its way up his spine, keeping his head firmly facing forward. Finally, the bus was pulling up to the Trafalgar Square stop. As the large vehicle crawled to a stop, Harry's years of Quidditch and (more recently) football and kung fu paid off as he bolted, jumping straight over Snape and shooting down the stairs and out the door. Harry barely registered Snape's bewildered expression and the derisive comments from the rowdy youths at the back of the bus.

The chilly air whipped at his cheeks as he briskly walked up the street, turning into Leicester Square. He wanted to keep running but he knew that the police would only be suspicious if they saw a man in a hoodie sprinting through an area notorious as a pickpocket's haven. The square seemed even busier than usual, for which he was grateful. Glancing in the direction of the Empire, Harry had never felt so relieved to be caught in the area during a film premiere. Even with his over-eager magic spilling through his pores, Snape couldn't possibly follow him through this mayhem – assuming he even got off the bus in time.

His progress through the crowd was slower than he would have liked, but his irritation was belayed by his confidence that Snape couldn't follow him. The stench of the crowd – both physical and emotional – disgusted him but he gritted his teeth and pushed through. He now accepted that he hated crowds and still chose to live and socialize in London – sometimes he even confused himself. As he got to the other side of the square and turned right, towards Chinatown, Harry had to wonder why Snape had been looking for him in the first place. Of all of his previous acquaintances, he was in the top 5 Harry didn't want looking for him. He thought about the older man's words – did his magic really attract that much attention? Perhaps he should start using it a bit, performing some minor spells... Harry shook his head to clear those thoughts. As Snape had rightly noted, Lord Voldiepants had requested his exile (and Dumbledance had been more than happy to oblige). Even though they never said he couldn't _use_ his magic, it was heavily implied, especially with him living with muggles. The International Statute of Secrecy was mentioned several times… Considering all this, a small part of him couldn't help but wonder at Snape's silently asking, "Why?"

As he made his way across the streets crowded by the excitable Friday night crowd, sights set on heading up Frith Street, he realized he was heading straight towards a solution. With a small smile, he thought about how many people would be in the clubs tonight. Lights flashing, music blaring, bodies moving everywhere; he'd be able to get away with some simple wandless spells. Little flashes of light, banishing empty plastic cups, maybe even change the colour of some minor wall accessories… And with so many people present, _anyone_ would be hard-pressed to pinpoint _him_ as the source in the crowd.

It also worked in his favour that it was harder to identify a caster's magical signature when a person used wandless magic, at least in the United Kingdom. It was in the early days of his exile that he learned that Ollivander's wands, by the Ministry's request, amplified the magical signature of the caster. Which led him to a more worrying question: how _had_ Snape recognized that he'd used his magic on the bus?

Harry turned onto Old Compton Street and his frown immediately turned into a bright grin. Three well-dressed men stood in front of the Prince Edward Theatre, waving happily at him. He walked a little faster, waving back. With a quick glance behind him, he confirmed that Snape was nowhere in sight and decided not to think about anything of a serious nature until tomorrow. He really enjoyed going out with these three work-colleagues-turned-friends; they made him feel accepted and appreciated, they didn't pry into his past and respected his opinions and decisions – be it that the saltwater crocodile preferred pork to chicken or that he did not want to drink the alcoholic beverage they offered. He could really just be himself and enjoy their company. They'd also come up with a slightly-ridiculous-but-endearing nickname for him…

"Hey Emmy, what took you so long?" Jeremy gave him a big hug, then held him at arm's length and spun him around. "And how many times have I told you that you need to glam up at least a little when we come out?" He levelled what was meant to be a reproachful look at Harry but the effect was ruined by his playful smile.

"I look nice," Harry argued without any bite, "This is a Jack Wills hoodie – and my shoes are Clarks." He ducked his head with a bashful look as his three friends shook their heads good naturedly. He took in their attire appreciatively. Jeremy, the tallest of their group, had a baby pink vest under his smart black jacket, dark jeans and shining white Nikes with a silver, reflective Swoosh, his blond hair gelled back aristocratically. Gareth had his shorter brown hair brushed forward, the front gelled into a neat quiff, a skin tight, royal and baby blue rugby shirt and white skinny jeans showing off his well-toned body. Tom pulled off his usual rugged and sexy look, his slightly longer brown hair just curling at the end, always looking freshly-shagged. He wore a tasteful black shirt, sleeves methodically rolled back to his elbows, fitted black trousers and pointed, shined black shoes. Harry had to admit that, compared to their outfits, his white t-shirt, navy blue Jack Wills hoodie, straight cut jeans and simple Clarks boots (he had bought them out of nostalgia, missing the style and practicality of dragonhide boots) looked rather unimpressive. It also didn't help that he was the shortest in their group.

Chuckling, Tom seemed to know where Harry's thoughts were taking him. He put his arm around Harry's shoulders and breathed against his ear, "You still look downright edible, Em."

Harry smiled at Tom. They tended to flirt shamelessly and had once gone on a date but agreed that neither was willing to risk the easy camaraderie of the quartet by pursuing a relationship. Still, they sometimes stole a kiss and a chance to muss up the others' already-mussed up hair – but only when they were both single. It was another thing Harry liked about these three; a lot of men he'd met (and even some he'd been with) were very casual about relationships and didn't really respect the concept of an exclusive relationship. As much as none of them minded the casual hook-up, they respected when one was committed to a more serious arrangement.

"Wristbands to Heaven?" a young man in a bright hoodie offered. With a grin to each other, they accepted. They'd duck down to Heaven later; first, though, they headed towards the legendary club G-A-Y. With a familiar "Hello" to the bouncers, they made their way in and towards the bar.

Jeremy bought a round of cocktails – well, three cocktails and a lemonade for Harry. The trio remained ever-bemused about Harry's unwillingness to be out of control, even temporarily, even marginally. They suspected that he had some very heavy stuff in his past but promised him (and each other) that they would not pry. Harry thought they didn't notice the looks of contempt he shot at people crowding the dance floor, the times he growled deeply when something bothered him, the quietly whispered hisses that calmed even the most dangerous snakes. The saw it all – they knew that those emerald eyes they loved so much had a dark, shadowed look that spoke volumes. They suspected that their small companion had had a difficult childhood; and they simply wanted to help him enjoy his life now and feel loved.

"I love this song!" Jeremy grinned wickedly and dragged the others onto the dance floor, all laughing. Song after song, they danced away, taking turns buying rounds. Harry discreetly made lights flash above people's heads, banished a few empty plastic cups and bottles, cast an occasional cooling charm around them – generally exercising his magic with small spells that weren't too noticeable. He was really enjoying himself, the heavy feeling in his stomach fading with the chances of Severus Snape finding him here.

When Gareth reached a comfortable buzz, he suggested they head to Heaven and the rest agreed that it was as good a time as any. As they left the blaring music and heat of the dance floor, Harry felt like he was on his own personal high. The wind on his cheeks felt far more pleasant than it had earlier. Laughing at an anecdote Jeremy was sharing about other zoo staff, they made their way back down the roads Harry had raced through just a few hours ago. Before long, they had joined the predictably long queue for the popular club.

Enjoying himself so much, Harry didn't notice the other magical presence until it was too near to remain masked. A hand firmly – but not violently – grasped his shoulder.

"Good evening again, Mr Potter," Snape might as well have been laughing at him, his tone conveyed that much of a sense of triumph and gloating. True, it was not his usual poisonous, biting growl but at that moment, it felt even worse to the stunned young man. Harry's eyes were filled with disbelief as he turned to once again face his former professor.

"Who's your tall, dark and handsome friend, Emmy?" Jeremy looked Snape over with equal amounts of appreciation and caution in his blue eyes. This stranger was obviously causing their small friend a deal of distress; as he knew his name, he was likely an element of his mysterious past. Jeremy was jostled out of his thoughts by Tom pushing past him to wrap his arm protectively around Harry's waist, openly glaring at the newcomer.

"Emmy?" Snape asked sardonically, hyperaware of the other three men but never taking his eyes off of the encore impression of a soon-to-be-roadkill deer from the every-intriguing Boy-Who-Lived.

Jeremy took a small step towards Tom, a hand on his elbow as a warning not to do anything rash. "Yeah, because of his emerald eyes." Deciding to test whether the stranger would be forthcoming with any information regarding his relationship to their friend or his reasons for his clearly uninvited presence, he added, "It took over a week to get him to tell us his name and we had to call him something, after all."

Snape cracked a small, amused smile, having an idea as to the reason behind Harry's behaviour. However, he was robbed of his chance to respond. To Harry's eyes, it was his usual smirk, belittling and mocking, and that seemed to break him out of his stupor. Ten years' worth of rage at everyone associated with Voldemort and Dumbledore threw itself to the forefront of his mind, focused and doubled – trebled, even – as he flung himself at the former double agent. Tom, still clinging to Harry's waist, got dragged forward, eyes wide in shock, and subsequently pulled Jeremy forward a little as well. After the muggles untangled themselves, several moments passed in which they could only stare, half-lying on the wet floor. They had never seen Harry lose his cool. All at once, they understood why he never wanted to not have total control over himself. The usually timid, calm and collected man was currently straddling the stranger, roaring some nonsensical words and pummelling the man's face with both fists.

They finally snapped into action as they saw Gareth move to step past them. All three called for Harry to stop but before any of them could touch him, the stranger had suddenly made a grab for Harry's wrists, pulled him flat against his chest and flipped him. The speed with which he moved was unbelievable.

While the three muggles gaped at the show of physical prowess, Snape murmured a simple, wandless field-healing charm (and a _Scourgify_ for the blood) while hidden behind the curtain of his hair. Mindful not to put himself within biting range, he addressed the still raging man underneath him.

"Potter," he said calmly, intent on ending this fist fight and starting a conversation. However, there was no indication that Harry heard or cared to listen to him. Struck by inspiration, he changed tactics. "Harry," he almost whispered, he said it so quietly.

That seemed to shock the younger man enough to stop his struggling. Snape sighed in relief. He had had to wait for Harry to tire himself out a bit before flipping him but he knew that that the smaller body contained a far superior strength and he would not have been able to keep him pinned for much longer.

"I have not been sent by the Dark Lord – nor by the Headmaster," he murmured. Although Harry's words had been almost indistinguishable from an enraged gorilla, Snape had been able to make out enough to determine that Harry still – quite rightfully – harboured a deal of rage against those who had exiled him and those who supported the decision. "Despite the seeming peace their compromising has brought about, I am one of many who still see the imbalance in our world and the need for a real change, for real progress. _I_ decided to look for you and no one else knows I am here." Seeing the distrust still flaring in the almost glowing emerald orbs, he added, "I have not been employed at Hogwarts for the past few months. I had been planning to seek you out even before I handed Albus my resignation letter at the end of the last school year."

While the confession did little to comfort Harry or convince him that Snape wasn't there on anyone's orders, it did give him pause to at least have a calm conversation – perhaps. Harry knew that Snape had tenure at Hogwarts, allowing him to conduct independent research around his other duties (at least, when not attending Death Eater revels or Order meetings – or did those count as part of his duties?). Resignation meant losing his job security and possibly personal security, if people still questioned his role as a double agent. Also, depending on how amiable his parting had been, he risked falling out of Dumbledore's favour. Before he could ponder much farther, however, Harry spied a bouncer making his way towards them. Harry tapped Snape on his upper arm, giving a discreet nod in towards the approaching trouble. Nodding imperceptibly, Snape got to his feet and helped Harry up.

"Is there a problem here, lads?" the bouncer asked gruffly.

Before his friends could say anything, Harry answered, "No, sir. We just got a bit carried away fooling around." For good measure, he smiled roguishly between the bouncer and his old professor. While the latter looked downright amused, the former was clearly sceptical but, not seeing any signs of imminent conflict, shrugged and returned to his post at the door.

Harry turned back to his friends to see that Jeremy and Gavin were absolutely gobsmacked while Tom seemed to be slowly working himself into a quiet rage. Feeling thoroughly deflated, Harry sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. Taking a fortifying breath, he suggested, "What's say we go sit in Balans and I finally tell you guys about my past and how he –" he nodded towards Snape's direction, "– fits into it… He can also kindly explain to me why he's come to bother me."

Though clearly not appeased, they all agreed to the plan. Leaving the queue, the group silently made their way back towards Old Compton Street, each occupied by their own thoughts.


End file.
